


Will They Forget You?

by SkyGarde



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eluvians, Gen, Lots of plot, Multiple Inquisitors, My First Fanfic, Some Fluff, Two Inquisitors, canon to the end of Inquisition, deviates beyond that, lots of artistic run away, minor character relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyGarde/pseuds/SkyGarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arven makes the mistake of using Eluvians as his is escape. His punishment? He's back in Skyhold, but he's no longer the inquisitor and those he thought dead aren't so much anymore.</p><p>Mostly world building with minor relationship stuff</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Elf makes a memorable entrance.

Morrigan stood in front of the Eluvian pondering whether she should have told the Inquisitor about them. At least he hadn't seemed interested in them, aside from keeping the one in the Arbor Wilds out of Coryephus' grabbing hands.

 

She was about to leave when the Eluvian started to glow, just like it did when she used it. She backed away slowly, calling on her her magic, preparing for what might come out of the mirror. An explosion of pure magic knocked her back as a figure flew out of the Eluvian and crashed into some of the furniture scattered about the small room. As Morrigan righted herself, the figure on the floor groaned and the metallic scent of blood hit her square in the face. Her magic swelled as she fired a bolt of electricity at the newcomer. It was nothing that would harm, in the long run, but before she had time to think beyond that the newcomer raised his arm in a defensive move and the bolt of lightning died out mere inches from his hand. Startled, Morrigan backed away finally taking in the stranger. He had silver hair and wore the armor of a Grey Warden mage, what struck her as odd were the pointed ears sticking out from under his cropped hair. Before she had time to say anything the elf looked at her and if she could take any more steps backwards she would have. The eyes that looked up at her were the brightest blue and they flicked through emotions faster than lightning in a thunderstorm. From recognition to disbelief, to sadness, to anger and back again. What he ended on was fear and with that he bolted. He ran out the door and turned like he knew where he was going.

  
Morrigan took a moment and then chased after him. After all, he came from the Eluvian, she had to know more and with the inquisitor out she was the only one who could deal with this elf besides Solas and she didn't quite trust him. She exited the Eluvian's room and ran after him. Tracking him through the castle when she couldn't see him was easy enough, the elf seemed to be wounded and a trail of blood followed him. For a stranger he knew his away around, which only confused Morrigan more when the trail led her to the dungeon and as she turned the final corner found him slumped in the back of a cell clutching his side, his hand covered in blood. She tried opening the cell only to find the lock melted shut. She looked at the elf and he at her. He was pale and his midriff look shredded between his pale fingers and the blood.

  
"Get-" he gasped on a shaking voice, "Get Fen-ah, Solas"

"First you will explain who you are and how you used the Eluvian." Morrigan responded.

"No," he said as strongly as one could while bleeding out, "Listen, Morrigan, I haven't hurt anyone, just please." He then sighed and sank back into the wall more.

She sputtered, how could this elf know her? She knew she wasn't exactly subtle in Orlais, but an elf falling out of an Eluvian wearing warden armor who knows how to wield magic strong enough to fend her off? Doubtful that she wouldn't have heard of him before. "At least let me get you a healer or some elfroot or something."

"Morrigan please, I'll be fine, just-just get Solas."

"Fine. If you insist-," she paused realizing she hadn't gotten his name.

 

"Arven" he responded half-heartedly.


	2. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arven awaits the return of the Inquisitor and his party. In the mean time familiar faces visit him. Mostly old with some new. The Dread Wolf makes his entrance.

The first to visit him was Cole.

 

He couldn’t say he was surprised, he was all about helping people after all. After some small talk and Cole finally persuading Arven to come close enough to bandage his wound through the cell bars he left, although not without some cryptic sayings all his own. “They are gone to you. Not even a possibility, but to others they are a certainty.” Arven didn’t dare ask him to clarify.

The second to visit was Varric, it was short, something about an interesting tale for his next book or some such. Arven was sure a fever was setting in.

Leliana was next to see him although she wasn’t as friendly as when she first met him. Not that she seemed to remember him, none of them did, which was more terrifying to him than the fact that some of them were supposed to be dead. She asked about everything, how he could control the Eluvians, how he knew his way around the keep, and how he seemed to know most everyone here. He didn’t answer a single one, not knowing where he was and who knew what was not helpful. All he did was request for Solas again and again. Maybe that damned wolf would have some idea what was going on. Leliana realized she wasn’t getting anywhere and left.

Backwall came down and studied him for a time. He seemed to regard the elf with an almost pity, but Arven knew it was familiarity, however little his situation compared to Rainer’s. He left without saying a word.

Sera stopped by, at least Arven thought she did, his fever was getting worse and he knew his wound was probably infected. If she did stop by it was to threaten him and tell him to not be so much of an elf-elf, as she put it, and use magic to blow his way out of here. He assured her that even if he wanted to he didn’t have even half the energy necessary for a small fire in his hands. She grunted at him for that and left, muttering things about another dumb elfy-elf to deal with. He tried not to think too hard about it.

One evening he heard the clank of armor coming down the steps and he settled in assuming Cassandra had finally come to drill him into the ground if necessary. The clink of armor stopped short of his cell with a quiet gasp, a noise he was sure Cassandra would never make. He rose his head groggily taking in a woman in armor and, creators above! His eyes snapped open as he took in the woman’s face before him. She had blond hair and piercing amber eyes and between the hair she had pulled back out of her face stood the ears that marked her as elven. Arven stared in shock, “You’re dead.” He said lowly. Her face twisted and Arven prayed this was all just his fevered mind torturing him. The elven woman spun around and headed back the way she came three times faster than she had come. “Ashami?” The name soft on his lips. He could have sworn he heard a sob before the door to the dungeon closed.

The next time he awoke it was to the dungeon door opening, but no one entering. Curious, he listened intently.

“Inquisitor, as I have said many times already, it may be best for me to see him first.” Arven assumed that was Solas, judging from the strong pride in the voice but also the formality which he used with everyone. A harsher voice replied, the Inquisitor, he presumed, “If he’s who I think he is, I’ve been waiting long enough!”

“Inquisitor, I meant no disre-,”

“Get out of my way!” Growled the voice.

“Maybe we should all take a minute” responded a third party. It was a voice Arven had resigned himself to never hear again.

“Dorian you know what this means to me if it is true!” The Inquisitor pleaded.

“I know, but perhaps we should let Solas verify before we rush in there hopes raised.” Dorian responded evenly.

“But-“ The Inquisitor tried to reply.

“Hush amatus. Let us go clean up. Either way we can’t have you looking a mess in front of guests.”

Had Arven heard that right? Had Dorian, a man he was sure was never going to be in his life again just called someone else ‘Amatus’? If his heart was not already broken before, it was now. Still reeling, he tried to steel himself for whoever came down those stairs. He heard the door close and a soft pair of footsteps descend. Solas appeared before him looking just as he did the day he left he inquisition. They studied each other for a moment, the silence becoming taut between them.  
“I heard you’ve been asking for me by name Da’len.” Solas said, breaking the silence. At this point Arven was done with all these antics and having to hold out from screaming _I KNOW YOU_ to everyone who visited him. With a sigh he straightened himself against the wall of the cell. “Fen’Harel” he said curtly.

“That is not a name for a mortal like me-“ Solas tried to defend.

“Cut the crap,” Arven responded turtly. “You are Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, and you created the veil to shut out the old gods as punishment for murdering Mythal.” If Solas was surprised he did not show it.

“You are surprisingly well informed,” he said cooly, “and, as I hear from Morrigan, surprising powerful in your own way.” Arven chuckled darkly and reached for the glove on his left arm, he pulled it off to reveal a spider web of scars that trailed up his arm and emanated from a large one that spanned the palm of his hand. “Side effect of this bloody thing.” At this Solas at least looked a little confused.

"That looks just like-" he started.

“The Anchor?” Arven supplied.”Coming here seems to have stopped its consuming me. For now at least.”

“Coming here?” Solas questioned, “If I remember correctly Morrigan said you came from the Eluvain and you still seem to be injured.”

“Ah yes those dumb mirrors. I knew it would take me to Skyhold just not, well, _this_  Skyhold.” Solas looked like he was battling a million different questions in his mind, deciding which was most pressing he asked, “Who are you truly? You seem to already know me, it only seems fair.” 

Arven snorted, “Fair?” He said sarcastically, “I suppose you do deserve to know. I am Arven Lavellan, the only mage of my clan and the only survivor. I went to the Conclave when they were still alive and got that stupid Anchor when Corypheus should have died from that dumb orb of yours. Shit happened, Haven fell, the Inquisition moved to Skyhold and we kicked some Corypheus ass.” He paused, talking a breath as if each of the following words were like another dagger in his heart. “We-we were disbanded. Most scattered, some stayed. I-I decided the Eluvians were worth looking into, if not for the inquisition, then at least to keep them away from others who would crush a country in their hands with that power.” He stopped. Looking at the floor, even Solas could see the immense pain behind those bright, sky blue eyes. “I killed them.” It came out as a whisper. Barely audible. “They were all dead in another explosion I shouldn’t have survived.” He sighed, tears on the edge of spilling from him. Tears he hadn’t dared shed before in fear they would never end. “After I realized what had happened I cut all ties. I tried returning to the Dalish life. I wasn’t good at it. Ended up taking on a job that was too big for a single mage. A wyvern nest. I almost made it out before the dragon showed. It gave me it’s parting gift and I ran. I found an active Eluvian and I jumped through, no hesitation.” He stopped again and if he could have looked even more exhausted he would have probably been dead, Solas wagered.

 

”It was’t supposed to be this Skyhold” he said in a voice Solas doubted was meant for him to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA I AM TOTRUTING MY POOR BABY AND ITS SO WRONG BUT FEELS SO GOOD. Sorry Arven, time for lots o' feels my baby boy.


	3. The Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor receives a letter or two on his travels.

The letter reached him in the Emerald Graves.

 

He was there trying to find a 'friend' of Solas'. While he wasn't sure what good if any would come of this little trip, he decided anything was better than having the Mage run off on his own to deal with this. By midday they had found the spirit, much to Solas' dismay. He let him kill the idiot mages who had summoned it. They deserved it. Solas left shortly after that and he wondered if the Mage would return to Skyhold or if this was the straw on the camels back that made him decide to never return. He spent the rest of the day with Dorian, Cassandra, and Iron Bull, trying to earn favor with the Dalish. While they were still 'his people', he found that after all that he had been through the Dalish's fear of anything not Dalish seemed childish. By the time they made camp the letter arrived. He skimmed it, the majority was meant for Solas, but it seemed that Skyhold had a very interesting new prisoner. What surprised him was that, under Leliana's curt handwriting, there was a hastily written note that told him the prisioner was in the dungeons because he had made his way there himself and shut himself in. If the rest of the tale was not so peculiar he would have taken this as some mad man the Eluvian had spit out. While the matter seemed to be pressing, he decided to stop in Redcliffe to deal with a few things before finally heading back.

Redcliffe held a family reunion he wasn't exactly prepared for considering it wasn't his and came with a lot of secrecy. If he had been on the fence about loving Dorian, he was no longer. He bristled at the mention of blood magic and that his father still wanted him to change. After the eventful exchange he took Dorian into the forest a ways, not far enough for bears and enemies, but far enough from prying eyes and ears. They spent all night sitting there, talking, discussing, arguing, but eventually they just stared at the stars. He mentioned how he missed his family and his sister was all he had, Dorian squeezed his hand and assured him he wasn't going anywhere. He smiled a small smile. Maybe if he had asked Cullen things would have been different. He didn't always trust the nobles and their Game. Returning to Redcliffe he found Cassandra and Bull waiting for them. "Inquisitor," Cassandra said in a soft voice, clutching a letter with the Inquisition's seal on it, "it's from your sister." Scared he ripped the letter from her grasp and turned away. He hungrily read the note and reread it and read it once more.  
'It's Arven. The prisoner is Arven.'Disbelief ran through him like waves in a storm they mingled with the feelings of sadness, relief, hope. He grabbed the top of a chair to keep himself from falling over.

"Inquisitor?" Cassandra pressed.

"What is it boss?" The Bull asked more curiosity than concern.

"Perhaps we should all retire for the night, right Inquisitor?" Dorian proposed. The inquisitor only nodded numbly. The only sign that he had heard any of them. Dorian guided him to his room and locked the door behind them. Sitting the inquisitor down on the bed he kneeled before him. "Okay now what is it?" He asked quietly. The inquisitor only stared at the floor. "Inquisitor? Amatus?" No response. "Kymil if you ignore me any longer I think I may die." He joked.

"It's-it's my brother," He looked up into Dorian's eyes. Forest green meeting storm grey. "My little brother Dorian. He's the prisoner at Skyhold."

Dorian squeezed his knee. "You told me they all perished long ago, in our coversation earlier."

"But Dorian, Ashami swears it was him. She went to see what was causing all the fuss and it was him. Do you know what this means?" He asked getting more and more excited as he went along.

"We need to check your sister's eyesight?" He asked trying to not let the inquisitor get too far ahead of himself.

"Andraste guide me. We have to return to Skyhold immediately!" He announced jumping to his feet. Dorian fumbled trying not to get run over as Kymil started bustling about his room throwing things into bags and not quite caring if some things made it in all the way.

"Kymil, Kymil listen to me," Dorian said while grabbing his sleeve, "While I don't want to keep you from your maybe family, some of us have had a less than happy family reunion today." He released Kymil's sleeve and turned his gaze away so as to not let the elf see how bad today's events had hurt him. "Maybe we can keep to one family reunion a day." He looked back at him with a small smile playing on his lips. Realization dawned over Kymil's elven features, his mouth open in an 'O'.

"Dorian I'm so sorry" he flustered. "I completely forgot. Are you alright?" His eyes becoming indefinitely soft and caring.

"Not quite, but maybe we could just sleep it all off, yes?" The normally confident man seemed to have been eroded away from today's events and it was all Kymil could do to agree with him.

 

As he blew out the lights he knew he wouldn't sleep, not with the prospect of those he thought dead returning to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Kymil my dear, you regretting not going back first yet? 
> 
> Also irony ftw.


	4. Breaking the News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas has information and some are less ready to hear it than others.

They were all in the great hall.

 

Although besides the inner circle and the advisors there was no one else there. The emptiest it had been since they had arrived at Skyhold.

Solas entered the hall shutting the great doors quietly behind him as he took in the group. The inquisitor was no where to be seen and neither was the Tevinter Mage. For that he was grateful, the information he had was sensitive at best. The general mood of the party was "off". A mixture of curiosity, caution, and the unpleasantness of not knowing anything, set the entire party on edge. He felt as if he were walking into the middle of a ring surrounded by rabid mabari.

"Well?" Asked Cassandra bluntly, breaking the silence.

"To put it lightly, time travel is not the strangest thing we’ve had to deal with anymore." Solas responded evenly, trying to make them all understand even he was out of his depth on this.

"How was he able to use Skyhold's Eluvian? Actually how was he able to use any Eluvian?" Morrigan asked, anger and curiosity tinting her tone.

"It seems we have a visitor from a parallel world." Solas said slowly, avoiding Morrigan's question as best he could. How could he tell them even he did not know, but oh how he wished he did. The jealousy for the elf who could use the Eluvians with such control the he had accidentally done something not even the elven gods had thought possible.

“Fuck it, I’m out,” Sera interjected, “Let me know if you need to stick something full of arrows, otherwise I’m outta this bitch.” She left quickly and even Solas did not blame her.

“Could it be Tevinter magic?” Blackwall asked, forever tentative around anything having to do with the ‘Vints’ as Iron Bull called them.

“Definitely not.” Solas replied, “If anything it’s elven, but it has the same feeling as the anchor when the inquisitor uses it to close rifts. They all grew silent at that for they all knew why the Inquisitor was Corypheus’ target.

“Is there anything more you got from the prisoner? He didn’t say a word to me, aside from asking from you of course.” Leliana was basically throwing daggers with her eyes, but Solas would not put it past her to literally throw some.

“He said his name was Arven Lavellan,” he paused felling the utter drop in temperature from the group, “He claims to have faced off against his own Corypheus and won, he also says he himself had the Anchor and does have scars to match his story.” There was a quiet minute where Solas could see everyone’s mind spinning, asking a million and one questions that they wanted an answer for, and finally realizing that he might indeed be from a parallel world. He could see it dawn on each one of them individually what this in turn meant, that this stranger, this elf dying in their basement might know more about them and their Inquisition than any one of them standing in the circle.

How do we deal with this?” Cullen asked in a quiet voice, almost as if he was trying not to break the fragile hope that none of this was real. Cullen took his eyes from the floor where he had directed his question and looked around and saw that each face mirrored his own feelings of “ _I have no fucking clue_ ”. It seemed as if they were all going to keep standing there in silence when Cassandra again asked what they were all thinking in the back of their heads.

 

“Who is going to tell the Inquisitor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now where the hell do I go from here? That is the question.


	5. Fevered Rememberings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his fever sets in Arven recalls his battle at Adamant

Arven regretted his choice of imprisonment immensely.

 

He had forgotten how bloody cold Skyhold got and it didn't help that there was a giant hole at the end of the corridor that let the cold mountain air whip through. His Warden coat was normally enough to keep him from shivering his ears off but normally it didn't have four huge tears in it. His fevered mind drifted to Adamant. Pulling him in the same way the fade had all those years ago.

_There were sounds of metal clashing. Demons and people alike screaming out. The smell of blood was everywhere as Arven raced his way to the ramparts. The Champion called out to him as Arven raced past. Cutting down another pride demon Arven told him to protect his troops. This was his fight with the Wardens, he didn't need more men to die because the Wardens had succumbed to fear and a high authority. Clarel eventually listened to reason and they had almost won when the damn dragon showed its ugly mug. The ground crumbled beneath them in the wake of Clarel's attack. As they all fell Arven did the only thing he could think of. His mark flared and into the Fade they fell._

He heard the door to the dungeon open.

_The Fade was beautiful, strange. The revered mother guided them forward._

Soft footsteps coming down.

_They fought fear itself. "Stroud, I'm sorry."_

The steps get closer, more hesitant.

_The Wardens needed someone, needed him._

He tries calling out, his voice barely a whisper. He is dying and this cell was just making the process go quicker.

He hears the cell creak and groan as the metal is melted away.

"Fasta vass, I've got you. Hang in there my elven friend."

_"Congratulations, Warden-Commander Lavellan."_

 

Arven slipped into darkness unsure if he would return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very small chapter so i have something to move forward with!


	6. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arven reaches his edge. A promise is made

Arven awoke abruptly to unfamiliar surroundings.

 

It seemed to be the large tent that they had used when they were fleeing Haven and for a moment he thought the past events had just been a bad dream, but the dying sunlight on the tarp above him was being filtered through tree leaves and he couldn't move.

At first he thought it might've just been his sleep paralysis, but after a testing of his toes and ankles he realized he was strapped to a cot. At this he snapped wide awake and took in his surroundings with cautious curiosity. He was definitely sure it was a medical tent given the amount of cots and medical supplies spread through the rest of the space. What confused him was the lack of other patients, surgeons, or even healing mages. It was just him, alone, strapped to a cot in a place where know one even knew him.

What was left of his warden coat was on a chair next to him along with his bloodied undershirts. He looked down at himself realizing he was shirtless, chest bare, allowing anyone who came in to see how far an elf's vallaslin truly go and his bandaged side where his wounds were. He'd had his fair amount of wounds that had scared, but he was sure these would be the worst. It didn’t help that they were from a dragon and unlike the rest of his wounds they weren't treated immediately. While he did know some healing magic, his focus was more on being a Knight Enchanter like Vivienne. Unlike Cassandra or Blackwall his blade never dulled and his reach was farther then theirs, although they were much better equipped to be hit back than he was, resulting in more than a mage's fair share of scars.

The flap to the tent parted and his head snapped to the noise. When he saw who it was he simply rolled his eyes and tried to relaxed as much as he could in his binds.

“You know if they wanted to interrogate me they should’ve just sent Leliana again." _Or maybe Cassandra_ , he thought. He was never able to hide his true meaning from the sharp tongued warrior.

"I'm Ben-Hassrath remember? I'm sure I can get more than the Nightingale would like to know." 

"So I see they've already told you about my _situation_." he said acidly. The Qunari warrior simply looked at him. _Maybe he didn't know_ , Arven thought with alarm. How much had he already deciphered just from him physically? He suddenly felt very bare. He wasn't shy about his body, but he didn't like just anyone looking at him.

"Normally I'd do this around drinks," Bull started, "but as you said, your situation is a bit different."

Arven chuckled wryly in response. How like Bull to think through his liver. "So what do you want?"

"Well I can tell you're a mage. Your build is too slight for a warrior but too built to just be an archer or whatever Cole is." Arven shrunk under his gaze. He doubted anyone liked being analyzed like this. "You don't stick in the back though do you? Probably like Viv, but with too much pride to back out when you're fucked."

"Anything I can answer that you can't tell from my body?" He asked slowly, still uncomfortable. Iron Bull looked him square in the face and Arven had to drop his gaze. The guilt was too much. Bull had been one of the last ones with him and when Arven looked at this Bull all he could see were the Chargers faces when he told them their commander was gone.

"Not much," he said, softer this time. Had he seen the hurt in Arven's eyes? "You're Dalish, yeah? You have a clan and all?" Arven swallowed hard. Maybe he hadn't been briefed after all, or maybe he was just testing him. Either way it was an old wound and it seemed to be one that would never heal.

"They're dead." he replied sharply, struggling to keep the pain out of his voice.

"Sorry, the boss needed to know." Bull said turning like he was going to leave.

"I know I'm not really in a great position to ask, but will I ever meet this 'boss' of yours?" Arven asked. He knew it was going to happen sooner or later and the small flame of hope in him refused to die out.

"Uh yeah. About that-" Bull was cut off as the tent flap was shoved aside and a raven haired warrior stalked into the tent trailed by a dwarf who looked like his best had not been enough with keeping her out. 

"Don't tell the elf anything, Bull. He could be a spy." She said sharply casting her laser stare towards the elven figure.

"Cassandra please-" Varric tried.

"No, this man is an unknown and I will not let us give up all of our secrets to him just because Solas believes." She turned to the dwarf. Varric looked like he swallowed whatever he was about to say, threw up his hands in surrender and left. Iron Bull still stood between Cassandra and her target and she was getting visibly more agitated about it. "Get out of my way Bull, I must ask this man questions."

"No." he replied. Glancing back at the elf behind him he saw that his eyes were screwed tightly closed and his ears had pulled back against his head, much like a frightened cat. His posture had become taut and with a swift mental kick, Bull realized that while the elf was able to give sass, he was probably absolutely terrified and Bull wasn't just going to let Cassandra wreck the poor man further. 

"Bull." she growled in warning, her hand slowly moving towards her sword.

"If you have a problem Cassandra I suggest you go get the Inquisitor because otherwise I am not moving." Bull declared with force trying to back her down with words. She seemed to consider her options, eyes flicking between the elf and the qunari warrior. 

"Fine," she responded curtly, "but if he does anything, it's your head." She turned sharply and marched back the way she had come. Bull watched her leave wondering to himself if all it took to throw them into disarray was one small, frightened elf. He heard a small choked sob and turned around. The elf had turned his head away from him as he tried his best to curl in on himself. His fists were clenched and pulling at the restraints and Bull knew it wasn't to try and free himself. Slowly he reached down and touched the man's right hand. The elf's head snapped to look at him as a surprised gasp escaped him. The blue eyes full of fear and sadness were rimmed red as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. 

"I-I thought you had left." he said in a small voice. At that Bull shattered, how had no one seen this man's suffering? How had anyone let this happen? To see a soul so tortured and afraid was heart breaking. He moved his hand farther down and undid the restraint holding the elf's right hand.

As he moved to undo the rest he said, "I will never leave you again." The elf slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes and wrists. He stared at the great warrior with confusion, unsure if this was just another ploy. Something the advisors had worked up to get more information, the look in Bull's eye told him otherwise. "C'mon," the great warrior started,"Let's get you to a real room and get you some clothes and maybe even something to eat." He helped the elf stand slowly, Arven was wobbly, a mix of painkillers and his fever he would bet. Bull grabbed a sheet off of one of the other cots and gave it to the elf.

Arven took the sheet gingerly, almost as if it was going to bite him. He looked once more at the qunari warrior, but Bull had turned to grab Arven's gear, or what was left of it. He swayed like a leaf on the wind, with immense grief rolling through him it was all he could do to stand. The tears were still coming and he could't seem to make them stop. Just hearing Cassandra like that had been enough to push him over the edge. He remembered how long it took him to earn her trust in the universe where he came from, he doubted she would ever trust him here. The hardest thing was that Arven knew that she wasn't even the person who would break him the most. He started again as Bull slightly touched his shoulder, he must have dazed off.

"Hey," Bull said in the quietest voice Arven had ever heard the qunari use, "I'm just gonna step out one minute, okay? I just need to get Krem." The fear that instantly rose in him must have shown in his eyes, because Bull walked the few steps back to him and moved him towards a chair. Arven sank down into it, but he still had his eyes locked onto Bull's. "Hey, it's gonna be okay," Arven tried to hold in a sob. "I don't have to get Krem just yet. How about we just go to my room first and I'll send someone else for him. Is that okay?" Arven nodded slowly as Bull once again turned to leave. Arven's hand shot out without him even thinking and grabbed onto the warriors arm like he was a child in the forests all over again. Bull turned back, concern in his eyes. "I'm here, I've got you." he said as he placed one of his large hands over the elf's tiny one. He then grabbed Arven's hand in his own while using his other to help the elf up again and he kept it firmly on his back. Arven clutched at the large hand in his like it was a lifeline and drew the sheet in tighter to himself. "It's gonna be okay now, barely anybody know's you're even here so people aren't going to find it too weird that i'm taking someone to my quarters this late at night." Bull tested the joke, watching the elf to see if it had helped ease the stress even a little bit. Arven smiled a feint smile and they moved their way through Skyhold to Bull's quarters.

When they got to Bull's quarters Arven finally crumpled. He fell harshly to the floor, banging his knees and jarring his wound, but he didn't even notice. His grief fully consuming him, he became a sobbing mess. He could hardly see through his tears and his breathing came in harsh and ragged when the gut wrenching sobs passed. Bull's hand on his back became Bull pulling him into a hug with both huge arms around him. He clutched onto the warrior with one hand, his head hanging between them and the other hand still tightly clutching the sheet. Eventually his hands sagged and fell to the floor, exhaustion finally taking over where feeling had been.

Bull slowly pulled away as the elf's breath evened out and he sparred a look at him. With sadness pulling at his heart he noticed that the man had quite literally cried himself to sleep. Bull easily lifted the elf and placed him slowly onto the bed. Realizing the man still didn't have a proper shirt, with the sheet from the infirmary in a puddle on the floor, he headed back out into the night to call a messenger for Krem. Maker knows that Bull himself didn't have any shirts, especially not any that wouldn't look like a dress on the elf. After finding a messenger in the dead night, he returned to the room and pulled up a chair next to the bed and settled in to wait.

 

After all, he had promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if some people are out of character! I'm trying my best here!


	7. Losing Your Religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arven is still very fragile and a meeting sends his world spinning.

Bull was awoken by the sound of soft shuffling steps and a small groan.

Slowly opening his eyes he saw that the elf that he had helped escape the infirmary last night had gotten up and hobbled over to his nightstand. The groan had been caused by the elf trying to remove the bandages that were still on his side. The wraps were no longer pristine white as they had been the night before, they were now a yellowish color with four red lines on them.

Bull continued to watch as the elf slowly pulled the bandages off revealing his gashed side. The elf hissed as the cold air made contact with his open flesh and fished in bulls things for a towel. After procuring it he soaked it in the small bowl of water on the basin and moved the rag to his side. He could see the elf suck in a breath as he pressed the towel into the wound. After cleaning it he set the cloth down on the nightstand and moved to sit in one of the nearby chairs.

He moved slowly but deliberately and Bull thought to himself how easily this elf was doing this. While it obviously hurt him and he had previous wounds, the knowledge and the courage it took to properly address a wound on oneself was quite a feat. Bull knew it took some weeks to be able to look at their own wounds, let alone touch them and work on them. As he focused back to reality he saw the elf's hands start to glow as soft bluish color as he placed them both over his wounds. He could clearly see the pain and stress on the elf's face and watched as it screwed even tighter in concentration as the blue hue began to falter. There was a small popping noise and the elf dropped his hands in what seemed to be despair and exhaustion.

"You may need to give your body more of a break." Bull said quickly shattering the silence. The elf, startled, jumped to his feet and stood looking ready to bolt. Bull showed his hands and slowly stood causing the elf to back up a few steps. "Hey now, look it's just me." bull said as he took a step closer. He felt like he was walking up to a cornered fennec and he was a wolf slowly moving in. The elf backed another step and slipped. He had planted his foot square on the sheet from last night and the loose fabric gave way under him and the slick floor. He landed with a crash and a yelp of pain. Bull rushed to his side and helped him into a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" He asked with alarm. It was his fault the poor man was scared out of his wits and had backed into the stupid sheet.

"I-ah, I'm okay." The small elf replied with a wince.

"Don't lie to me. That obviously hurt you and you shouldn't have been moving around with those injuries anyways." Bull gestured to the elf's side. The wounds were still there, but they were about half of the size they were earlier.

The elf gave him a sheepish grin. "I tried my best, although that doesn't seem to be much these days." He ended sourly. "I apologize for my reaction, this is all so, so, weird." He settled. Bull knew that wasn't the only reason he had reacted so violently but he decided to let it drop.

"You're telling me," Bull joked as he sat back on his haunches, "here I am with a strange elf that I've just met and probably just got in lots of trouble by stealing you away." He laughed easily and loudly causing Arven to relax a little. Nice to know some things stayed the same no matter what universe you went to. "You know I still haven't caught your name in all of this." Bull said as he gestured to the elf and his room in one large sweep. "I mean if you basically break someone out it'd be nice to know their name."

The elf on the floor sat up and offered his hand to the qunari in front of him. "I'm Arven Lavellan. Pleased to meet you." He said. Bull took his hand and shook it heartily.

"That's an interesting name. Ar-ven." He practiced rolling it around in his mouth. He stopped when he saw the elf next to him giving him a critical look. "What?" He asked.

"It's not 'Ar-ven'," he mocked,"it's pronounced 'Ar-wen', although it is spelled the way you pronounce it." He commented, flipping his hand in the air. "The Dalish don't normally have hard syllables. It all flows together." Arven started to stand when Bull held out his own hand, offering to help Arven up. He slowly took it as Bull saw how cautious the man still was around him. Helping him to his feet, Bull crossed the room and grabbed a pile of clothes that had not been there the night before.

Headed back over to the elf he proffered the clothes. ”Here, these are for you." He said as he handed the small pile to the elf. "They're from Krem so you'll have to thank him later, but I figured they'd fit you better than my stuff would." Bull chuckled. Arven took the clothes and set some of them down on the bed next to him as he pulled out a black tunic and slipped it on.

"I-I don't know what to say." Arven said as he gripped the bottom of the shirt. He felt tears come to his eyes and he fought to keep them from spilling. Noticing his distress Bull moved his hand towards Arven's face, but stopped himself short.

"Is it okay if I?" He asked. Arven gave him a small nod. Bulls hand cupped the small cheek of the elf as he shed silent tears, knuckles white around the hem of his shirt. Bull moved his thumb in an arc brushing away the tears as he used his hand to pull the elf's head to him. They stood like that for a short while as Arven regathered himself. Arven moved slowly out of Bulls grasp and moved to the chair containing his wrecked warden gear. He had barely picked it up when there came a brash banging at the door, startling them both.

"Bull let me in this instant!" Yelled a voice from behind the door. Bull looked at the elf who looked at him with frightened eyes, eyes that begged him for safety. The banging continued, but increased in strength.

"Okay, okay I'm comin. Don't get your breeches in a twist!" He yelled as he crossed the room to the door. Arven hadn't moved, fear planting him in place. Bull opened the door a crack but was thrown slightly back as a figure pushed its way into the room.

He had short, cropped red hair that was shaved all along the sides and wore an intricate outfit that was a mess of brown leather. He was obviously elven and across his right eye was the mark of Sylaise. The two elves made eye contact and it was like the air had been sucked out of the room for both of them. Each drank in the other with fervor and wild hope. Arven couldn't believe his eyes. He thought that if this was happening, if this was real, then what he had seen in the dungeon was true too. His brother stood before him, his feelings mirrored Arven's own. The older elf took a step forward and that small breach, that small movement was all it took to send the elves barreling into each other. They met with a crash and sank to the floor each of them touching the other, needing to know they were real.

"Kymil" Arven breathed. The two elves touched foreheads and sat there.

"Arven, Arven how?" Kymil stuttered. His emotions were threatening to spill out of him at any second and it was all he could do to keep himself from howling with joy. Arven clutched at his brother as the familiar feeling of guilt racked through him. He sunk his head into Kymil's shoulder as he tried to hide his pain. "Maker bless us, Arven you've been brought back to us." The red hair elf spoke with fervor. Arven pulled back, taking in his brothers face with a frown. The Maker? They were elves. Arven looked at his brother, the look on his face showed he had no idea what he had said had affected Arven. Kymil moved to stand and Arven stood with him, Kymil held his hands reverently as if he let go Arven would just disappear. Kymil’s estatic smile faltered when he saw Arven’s expression.

“What is it Arven? Is everything alright?” Kymil looked at him curiously wondering what had gone wrong. Had it been something he had said?

“Kymil… I, uh, hm,” Arven tripped over his own tongue. He stared at the ground. “You believe you are Andraste’s Herald?” he asked slowly. The other elf tilted his head in confusion. This is what his brother was worried about?

“Well yes. Is that a problem?” the fiery haired elf asked, slightly annoyed. His brother had just come back and he was already questioning his beliefs. If Kymil was to be honest he would say Arven was being quite rude and it pissed him off.

Arven kept his eyes trained on the floor. He felt like a kid. “Um, well, no, not exactly. It’s just,” Arven raised his blue eyes to Kymil’s forest been ones, “What about the Creators?”

Bile rose in Kymil’s throat. The Creators? What had those dumb elves ever done for him? At least the maker listened. Gave him a purpose besides wandering the forest like a good little dalish. He stared hard at his brother, the fire behind his eyes was only sparked by the true sincerity in the others. “The Creators?” he asked, “They’ve done nothing for me.” He spat, seeing surprise fill his brothers eyes. “You and Ashmi can pray to them all you like but they will never listen! At least the Marker gave me purpose, Adraste as my guide!” Arven backed away from him frightened by the fierceness in his eyes and his voice.

“Kymil I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imp-“

“Imply what?” Kymil raged, “That I have been seduced by your horrid shems?!” he cried out, getting louder and louder with each word.

“Kymil please,” Arven begged. Had his brother always hated the dalish with such fervor? What had happened to the brother that played pranks and protected his siblings no matter what?

“No! You know what, no! I get enough crap from everyone else, I don’t need it from my own family!”

“Kymil” Arven whispered. He shrank in on himself, trying to seem smaller, less threatening. Maybe it would stave off his brother’s anger. He flattened his ears to his head and averted his eyes, sagged in his shoulders, and gave everything he could to be small. Kymil, on the other hand was fuming, his ears flattened in a way that was completely unlike the way Arven flattened his. His were pulled back in a way a wolf’s does when you anger it, his brows were pulled down making his already angular face seem sharp to the touch.

There was a shuffle by the door as Bull spoke up. “Inquisitor I don’t think he meant to offend.” Both elves seemed surprised. They had each forgotten he was there and his interruption was interpreted two very different ways. Kymil snapped to face him in a way Bull had never seen before. Even on the battlefield Kymil was calm and loose. He had told Bull when asked that it made aiming much easier then when one was tense and stressed. The elf in front of him now was new and very, very pissed off. Kymil’s eyes were hard and he stared Bull down trying to discern why in the hell he had decided to interrupt. His mind raced and settled on the fact that they were in Bull’s room and went from there.

“I can see my cowardly mouse of a brother now has a stupidly large bull guarding him.” Kymil spat with venom. Bull caught his insinuation and flushed in both anger and embarrassment. He had barely known Arven for a day. Did Kymil really think so lowly of him?

“I must politely ask you to leave my quarters.” Bull ground out.

“Oh of course,” Kymil bowed deeply in mock diplomacy, “I’m sure you have much better things to do.” He left the room in a huff, slamming the door on his way out. Bull was stunned. Had his values always been a sore spot for him? And what was that jab at his private life for? Bull turned back to the remaining elf and saw him practically vibrating he was shaking so hard. Arven stood there, trying to contain himself. He wouldn’t collapse, wouldn’t cry, couldn’t allow himself the small mercy those things gave him. So he stood.

He stood and resolved himself to the knowledge that he no longer had the luxury of his own room, his own space, and that prying eyes would wander after him everywhere he went. Even familiar faces would now become different, not knowing him, and he knew he couldn’t just collapse anymore. So he stood. He slowly pushed down all of his emotions, made himself feel mechanical and hollow, but he knew it was the only way to survive. He had to throw up every wall between himself and this new unforgiving world.

Bull watched his face harden with sadness. He knew what the elf was thinking and was about to move towards him when he started moving. He wasted no movement as he picked up his tattered gear and the small pile of Krem’s clothes. He started towards the exit as Bull blocked him. Bull stared down at him as Arven planted his eyes directly forward, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I apologize for the commotion, but I believe it is best if I do not linger here.” Arven stated flatly. The politeness in his tone was completely different from that he had used earlier when talking to Bull. He had been on edge, yes, but he was still relaxed in his voice and his words. He sounded like he was talking to a noble man, or someone who gave a damn about that kind of thing.

“Arven, hey look at me." Bull said reaching for the small elf in from of him. Arven pulled back and Bull stopped. He was going to have some serious words with the Inquisitor later.

"Please excuse me Bull. I have to inquire about my situation and find my own quarters for the duration of my stay here, if it is allowed." he said in the same tone. No feeling and all mask he sidestepped the qunari and left.

Bull heaved a great sigh and decided a drink was more than well deserved before he tried to figure this mess out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Kymil's a dick. No, there isn't really a lot of reason behind that. He's just sort of an ass and really stubborn.


	8. In Peace, Vigilance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arven looks for a place to sleep and finds something else instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY SCHOOL IS A BITCH

To say he was being watched would be an understatement.

 

Arven had put the upper part of his gear back on and it was fairly obvious the Wardens were either nonexistent or still unfound in this universe. He was watched by everyone, either because of his Warden gear or his unusual physical appearance, he didn't care. He held his head high, but not too high, and made his way to the quartermasters building. 

The stairwell that the quartermaster had set up in was small, but for Arven it was a nice relief from all of the eyes that had burned into his skin. The quartermaster was barking orders at the group of people who were surrounding his desk. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days and it seemed that each thing said to him just angered him farther. Arven stayed to the fringes picking up on the why the quartermaster seemed to be upset. From what Arven could gather, Skyhold was sorely lacking in essentials. They seemed to have plenty of people, but not enough food and medicine to keep them. Arven was about to leave when the quartermaster called out to him.

"You there, in the back. Yes you, elf with the silver hair, what do you want?" He snapped. 

"I am just here to ask after some quarters, sir." Arven responded using a voice that was much stronger than he felt. 

"Ha! Like I have any quarters to spare! This castle is bursting at the edges! Go sleep with the horses." Arven ducked his head in thanks and headed out towards the door. "Ah, I'm sorry about that. Sir? Sir?" The quartermaster called after him, but Arven was already gone. 

Arven walked slowly trying not to draw attention to himself. As he passed the tavern he felt very tempted by the sound of song. Music always helped him forget his troubles at least for a little while. He just about headed in before he remembered that the tavern was Bull's hangout and he backed away. He walked past a sparing ring he didn't remember being there and went down the stairs that lead to the lower courtyard. He headed past the makeshift tents that made up the infirmary, which were now full of people, unlike they were the night before. Mages bustled in and out along with the surgeons who were taking over when the mages became too exhausted. If Arven was unsure about being in a different universe, all of the mages walking around casually assured him of it. He had seen more than his fair share of abominations and having so many mages around with little to no Templar presence scared him.  

He hurried past and made his way to the barn and stables. Horsemaster Dennet was no where to be found and the stables were unusually quiet. Arven wandered into the barn and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He ducked quickly as an arm flew through the space where his head would have been in. He spun and stepped towards his attacker, summoning ice magic to his left hand. His pointed fingers were right at his attackers throat as icy mist swirled off of them. “Well I guess you’re a little less dead now” A slightly humored voice said. Arven looked up to see the bearded face of Blackwall looking down at him with humored eyes. The arm that had sung by was supposed to be flag over his shoulders had Arven not instinctually moved as if Blackwall was his enemy. He thought sourly on how he would’ve never done this in his Skyhold. He pulled his hand away from Blackballs through with a small “hmph” and turned away from him to grab the clothes he had dropped. 

“You know,” started Blackwall, “You’ve got everybody here all panicked thinking that you know our future and what not.” 

“I don’t know if I know my own future.” Arven responded bitterly. 

“Well, have you eaten yet? That sometimes helps. Especially since I don’t think you’ve eaten since your interesting entrance.” Blackwell side eyed the elf, taking him in. He was small, not just because he was an elf, he looked half starved. As if the he hadn’t had a decent meal long before he ended up here. The elf moved with precision, not wasting a single movement picking up his dropped clothes. His ears were always attentive and as he stood up, cold blue eyes locked onto his and Blackwall almost visibly shuddered. He had never seen so much pain in a pair of eyes. They were hard as stone, harder than some older wardens who had been in the last blight and the man in front of him had to have just entered his thirties, even if his silver hair made him look older. 

“I don’t want to go to the tavern.” Arven responded, his eyes falling to the floor. 

“Well,” Blackwall started suddenly chipper,”Good thing the kitchens are right there!” 

Arven snorted, “You sound like Sera.” 

“Eh," He shrugged,"It’s gotten a little too doom and gloom around here for my taste.” He started to head out of the barn, looking back over his shoulder to make sure the elf was following. He hesitated at first, but Blackwall would bet it was really hunger that was driving him forward, not friendliness. They walked in silence the short way to the kitchen with Skyhold bustling around them. If Arven closed his eyes it was almost like nothing had changed. He could hear the debating between merchants and their customers, an almost dance over price. The occasional clanging from the forge could be heard if the wind blew just right. The small twitter of birds that had decided this cold mountaintop would be a decent home. Refugees of all shapes and sizes could be heard talking to each other about everyday things and not once really worrying about the big picture. Chantry phrases filtered in and out of the conversations along with the occasional mention of elf. He opened his eyes to see Blackwall staring at him and he immediately realized he had frozen in his tracks just listening.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

“Ah, yes, it, um, it just sounds so familiar.” He responded. Blackwell simply nodded and turned, opening the door to the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread hitting him square in the face and making is stomach growl quite loudly. He put a hand to it embarrassed as Blackwall chuckled and grabbed a few buns seemingly fresh from the oven. He handed two over to the elf, saving one for himself. The elf scarfed them down greedily, confirming what Blackwall had theorized earlier. As the elf ate his bread, Blackwall looked around the kitchen and started throwing a real meal together. He and Arven, he learned the correct way to pronounce it, ended up staying in the kitchen for hours talking and recounting stories before they were in the Inquisition with Blackwall holding nothing back. They both retired to the barn to sleep with Blackwall insisting that Arven stay and he wasn’t bothered one bit. Arven fell asleep listening to the crickets and the soft noises of the night.

 

Suddenly a cold metallic hand was on his shoulder yanking him out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have i mentioned that i think Blackwall is the teddiest of teddy bears? He's gonna be there for Arven a lot so I hope I do him justice in my characterization of him.


	9. Decide My Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arven is brought to a meeting. Leliana learns the truth.

The grip on his shoulder was tight and unforgiving as Cassandra dragged him through the early morning light.

Not for the first time that morning he wondered what in the seven hells he had done to insure the warrior’s wrath. Her iron grip never loosened as she steered him into the war room where the advisors and Kymil were waiting. Arven refused to meet his brothers gaze instead choosing to look at the war table itself. The map of Thedas was spread across it with small metal markers showing ongoing and upcoming missions along with the markers that meant each advisor had worked on a certain mission personally. He noted the marker with the small almost bells on it where his clan once lived. Indicating Kymil had also picked Josie, meaning he had no clan here either. Cullen coughed once cause Arven to look up at him, but Cullen was not looking at him, he was looking at Josephine expectantly but also desperately. She didn’t seem to have the words, which Arven was surprised by. Normally Josie could handle anything and be diplomatic about it, but she was hesitating, it was new and it was frightening. Cassandra decided to take matters in her own hands, she shoved Arven forward into the center of them all and said,”We’re trying to decide wether it’s worth letting you live.” She stated simply as if his life was worth no more to her than a nug. He stared at her incredulous.

“Cassandra, no!” Josie started, finally finding her words.”We are having a difficult time deciding how to proceed, but his death wasn’t on the table” She said frantically.

“To me it was.” Kymil said simply. Causing not just Arven but even his advisors to stare at him. His eyes were hard as he stared directly at Arven making the younger elf immediately drop his gaze.

“Hm, well, it’s not, so I think we should put that out of mind.” Cullen said diplomatically. “So, We were wondering how much you actually know about and about the inquisition.”

“I don’ know anything about YOUR inquisition.” Arven responded quickly, still keeping his eyes glued to the war table.

“I told you he wouldn’t say anything,” Cassandra snapped, “we should just get rid of him and have it be done with.”

“Cassandra.” Leliana warned glaring daggers at the warrior who just threw them right back.

“In my Inquisition,” Arven started causing them all to focus back on him,”we had the Templars with us. We stopped the demon army the venatori were starting with Grey Warden mages,” He paused looking even farther down,”I-I became a warden-commander after the events at Adamant.” He could hear them all suck in their breaths. He had put it together after talking to Blackwall that in this version of time the Wardens had been disbanded. He looked up taking in each of their faces. Cassandra seemed the most visually taken aback, while Leliana hadn’t seemed surprised at all. Josephine looked like he had literally punched her in the gut and Cullen just looked sorry. Arven didn’t dare look at Kymil, he didn’t need to see more hate for him in his brother’s eye. However because he never looked Kymil’s way he never saw how the older elf stepped back slightly and looked at his brother with pure guilt in his eyes. Arven continued, recounting his story up to the defeat of his Corypheus. They probably didn’t need to know that the mark never goes away, or that it kept spreading long after the inquisition was disbanded, or that he learned second hand of Solas’ history as the Orlesian and Ferelden leaders regretted disbanding them in the first place. They didn’t need to know he was dying.

“So this orb, the on that Corypheus used to start all of this, what happened to it?” Leliana asked. Arven reached under his shirt and pulled out a necklace. tied to it was a fraction of the orb. He had kept it as a reminder. He set it on down on the war table for them to look at.

“There it is.” He said numbly. Cullen picked it up gingerly as if it would break if he so much as poked it wrong.

“Where is the rest of it?” Leliana asked, side eyeing the shard.

“I didn’t need to carry the whole thing. Needless to say though, it didn’t quite survive the battle.” Leliana looked at him, wondering why he had felt the need to carry any of it in the first place.

“If you still don’t trust me, I can leave, or if that’s not an option I can just stay here in the keep. I don’t need to be a bother. I won’t harm anyone or anything I swear.”

“I think it would be a waste to have you do nothing,” Josephine said simply,”We should perhaps test your skills to know if you can help outside of Skyhold?”

“As long as he’s not here to be a freeloader, I think we could use the help of a competent mage.” Cassandra stated. Arven looked at her slightly stunned. She had completely changed her view of him after such a small recounting of his inquisition. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Fine, I’ll have Morrigan test you since she won’t stop bothering me about you. This way I can kill two birds with one stone.” Kymil had his hand on his chin, truly thinking about this instead of just reacting to it as he normally did. “Cullen can you make sure the ring is empty tomorrow at midday?”

“I’ll make sure it is done, Inquisitor.” Cullen replied curtly.

“Alright then, I suppose I need to go find our Witch of the Wilds, wherever she has run off to now.” He sighed clearly signaling that the meeting was done by moving from the war table. The advisors followed suit leaving Arven standing there wondering if he really knew what he was getting into. He took a moment, looking around the great room that had felt so cramped and intimidating not a few moments ago.

“A lot different without everyone in here isn’t it?” Arven jumped, he had thought everyone had left, leaving him on his own in here. Looking back he realized that was naive of him. He turned seeing the spymaster standing by the door, observing him. She looked at him the same way Bull did, analytical and piercing.

“Its strange how its all so familiar, but at the same time so very different.” He said, turning his gaze back to the room.

“You look almost nothing like him you know,” She said,”You both move, sound, and are so very different from each other.”

“That’s because we aren’t truly brothers.”

“What do you mean, ‘aren’t truly’, did you not have the same mother?”

“No. Well I mean yes technically, but no I look nothing like him because I am nothing like him. I was abandoned in the forest as an infant.” He got quieter as he continued,”In elvish culture, at least in the woods I was left, silver hair is a sign of a child touched by Fen-Harel. And no one wants that.” He smiled slightly at this, the irony of his birth clashing with the reality of his life. “I was rescued by the Lavellan clan, mostly because one of their mothers had just miscarried and was desperate for child. That woman was Kymil’s mother. I’ve been told that she was almost kicked out of the clan for it and that they resented her for anything that brought harm to the clan. Saying it was my presence or some such.” He sighed, he had never told this to many people and it was hard everytime, but he figured the more Leliana thought she knew about him, the less she would pry.

“Did you ever escape the prejudice?” He was looking out the window now and Leliana wondered how all this must feel. Strange she would imagine.

"Does anybody any really escape their prejudices?" He asked dropping his eyes to the floor once more. He turned abruptly and snapped his eyes up to look her directly in hers. He seemed almost aggressive and Leliana tensed. Perhaps she had pushed too far, she didn't know him and she had no idea how in control of his magic he was. He was an unknown and he terrified her for that reason. Arven heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"To be honest I think I need a drink." He said. He nodded Leliana a farewell and left the war room. She watched him go, almost able to visibly see the pain he was carrying.

 

Arven moved through the castle like a shadow. He slipped through the great hall and down into the lower rooms of the castle. Finding where the inquisitor stored the bottles he found on his journeys, Arven grabbed the strongest looking thing and went to the old library. There were cobwebs everywhere and dust on everything but Arven didn't care. The smell of the old books and grimoires setting his mind at ease. He set the bottle down and focused, feeling his magic swirl in him. He held his breath and called upon a small wind spell that whisked around the space, dusting everything and removing the cobwebs. After everything was clean he settled in, grabbing a random book and opening the bottle. He just need a distraction, anything to keep his mind off of literally everything. When he got hungry he swung by the kitchens, but for the most part he stayed in the library. It wasn't long until the alcohol and long passages put him to sleep.

A cruel smile gleaned out at him from the darkness. "You are so insignificant"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arven my man, life aint giving you no breaks is it?
> 
> I lol as I try to not mischaracterize ppl 
> 
> Buckle in children, feels hell is the next stop on this awful rollercoaster

**Author's Note:**

> No plans for this thus far. If it gets finished, it will be a miracle. [EDIT - I've moved this to a different fic cause I didn't like how lost I got so yeah, here you go - http://archiveofourown.org/works/10624494]
> 
> Also, what the heckie is a POV?? lol 
> 
> You can see Arven here - http://i.imgur.com/UTWCygF.jpg  
> More Arven art and dragon age thingies here - http://elves-are-my-dowfall.tumblr.com/


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